


The Kitchen

by Axelflow



Series: Spire Life [4]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Baking, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Guilt, Hugs, Still Relatively Light, Support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axelflow/pseuds/Axelflow
Summary: We aren't getting a season 4 so I'm filling the void by writingEnjoy this series of one-shots focused on the best relationship in the series (fight me)
Relationships: Callum & Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Series: Spire Life [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771837
Comments: 9
Kudos: 50





	The Kitchen

“You are such a useless rich kid. You know that right?” 

“What do you mean useless? I’m not-” 

“I mean, how do you burn flour? It was just sitting there, in it’s bowl, not even near an open flame, and you burnt it!” 

“Look, in my defence, the kitchen here is different from the one back at Katolis,” Callum objected. Technically, he had never cooked in the castle kitchen, only stolen food with Ezran from it, but Rayla didn’t need to know that. 

“And that somehow explains the dough on the ceiling?”

“I...okay you got me there,” Callum relinquished. Even he knew when to stop arguing a lost point. It's not like his appearance would boost his credibility.

“So did the entire kitchen attack you, or was this actually the result of you trying to bake?” Rayla asked, circling Callum in disbelief. It was almost impressive how awful he looked. His hair was coated in a fine dusting of white powder that caused a light snowfall with even the slightest movement. His apron was torn down the side and blackened in the middle of the chest. His forearms were stained with a rainbow of colors that disappeared beneath his rolled up sleeves. She almost didn’t want to touch him out of fear that he might spontaneously combust. “How can you be so good at magic and so awful with everything else? It’s baking, for Primal’s sake. You just follow the instructions and then eat whatever comes out.”

“I’ve never baked before, okay.” 

“Neither have I, but even I know you aren’t supposed to wear the ingredients.”

Callum pouted. Magic came easy to him, but baking most certainly did not. And it was not as easy as following the instructions, no matter what Rayla said. Baking, as far as Callum was concerned, was a magic far beyond even him. He lifted his arms and rotated them, eyes tracing the twists and turns of color, and quietly accepted his defeat. 

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” piped Rayla over by the sink. A wet towel hung loosely from her hand and she was trying her best to not laugh at the look of embarrassment on Callum’s face. After handing the towel to him she gazed around the kitchen. _I’d be embarrassed too if I somehow managed to create a mess this bad._

It was a warzone of cutlery, pans, bowls, and assorted foodstuffs. A suspicious looking liquid dripped languidly off the edge of the counter, and much like Callum’s hair, a coating of flour was present on most surfaces. She surveyed it with a warrior’s eye and prepared for battle. 

Much to Callum’s relief, most of the mess came off fairly easily, with the exception of the berry juice. It remained stubbornly adhered to his skin, only fading slightly after minutes of scrubbing. “Ugh, forget it, you win,” Callum huffed before throwing the towel back into the sink. His patience had run out, and a bit of berry juice on him was presently the least of his worries. 

The kitchen.

Ibis would kill him if he saw the state it was in. A panic began to settle in. He could face bloodthirsty dragons, insane soldiers, and impossible odds any day of the week; that came with the territory of being a mage. But adult disapproval? His skin crawled at just the thought of it. Just before anxiety had a chance to bodyslam him into a pit of dread, a pan flew past his face into the sink. Callum whipped around only to witness two more just barely miss him and find their mark alongside the other. 

“Focus, Callum, we need to clean this place up before Ibis skins you alive,” Rayla half-shouted across the kitchen. She was already winding up with two more bowls, and she had no intention of stopping her kitchenware assault on the sink. 

Primals, he was lucky. In more ways than one. “Rayla have I ever told you that you’re the most beautiful, kind, loving-” 

“All those things and more, babe, and I wouldn’t mind hearing them more often, but right now I really want to keep my boyfriend alive, so get moving.”

“Right, shutting up now.”

Fervent silence filled the kitchen as elf and human raced to beat the clock. Callum attacked the dishes with a brush and bottle of soap while Rayla cleaned the surrounding area with efficiency normally used to track down a target. But no matter what they did the mess refused to acknowledge their efforts. Callum’s voice broke the imposed silence, unable to keep his thoughts contained any longer. 

“I missed home.”

Rayla turned her head from a particularly intriguing stain on the countertop. “Hmmm?” 

“That’s why I tried to bake; I missed home. I wanted to make jelly tarts because, you know, they remind me of Ezran. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, and I didn’t really know what else to do, so I went here,” Callum said with his back turned from her. 

“I get it. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about Runaan or Ethari, but I know this is what they’d want for me,” she replied, not really paying attention. 

She turned around to check Callum’s progress and something caught her eye. It wasn’t the mountain of shining dishes balanced precariously next to Callum. It was his shoulders. They were bouncing up and down, almost like he was... 

It took only a fraction of a second, but when realization hit, Rayla was already cursing herself for not noticing sooner. She walked over and wrapped her arms around Callum before bracing herself for what was coming next. Once Callum’s emotional valve opened, it wouldn’t close until everything had been let out. 

“He’s still so young and he’s already bearing the weight of a kingdom. And I know Opeli is doing all she can to help him and Corvus will make sure he’s safe, but I still feel awful. I’m his big brother, and I left him so I could practice magic.”

Rayla's voice caught in her throat, suffocating her with inaction. Her eyes darted around, searching for a response that could make the situation better. “That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Yes it does! Primals, I’ve been so selfish. I-I shouldn’t even be here. He’s my baby brother! He probably hates me for leaving him.” Doubt and guilt mixed together to dissolve any rationality left in Callum’s head. Tears were streaming down his face, the kind that stung the skin as they rolled down. Callum made no attempt to wipe them away. Why should he? He was supposed to feel this way. It’s what he deserved. 

“You know that’s not true,” Rayla pleaded.

Callum’s response shot out of his mouth. “How would you know?” 

Rayla was taken aback at the bite in Callum’s voice. “Because it’s Ezran, Callum,” she whispered, hoping to not provoke another accusation.

Rayla immediately felt his shoulders loosen up. Sensing an opportunity, she pushed forward, hoping to break the walls guarding his heart. She had to be careful though. Callum was walking the very fine line between anger and sadness, and she didn’t want to sway him in either direction. 

“He loves more than anyone else in the world. You saw his face when you did magic for the first time. Do you honestly think that he’d want to keep you from that?”

Silence. 

Rayla held her breath, hoping against hope that her attempt was successful in bringing Callim back down into a more sensible mindset. Seconds seemed like hours, and she could feel her heart jump with each shaky breath he took. It was nerve-wracking in every sense of the word. 

“You’re right.” 

Relief washed over Rayla. The quiet anger was gone from his words. She gave a quick squeeze of her arms, encouraging him to continue.

“I...just don’t know what to do. I miss him _so_ much. He was the one constant in my life and now he’s half a continent away.” A brief shudder transformed into a depressed exhale. “I can’t lose him, Rayla. I can’t. He means the world to me.”

“I know he does. But he’s in good hands and you deserve a life of your own. He’s following his destiny. He’d want you to follow yours too.”

Callum sighed. She was right, of course. He turned around in Rayla’s arms and reciprocated her embrace. He didn't have much energy left (anxious breakdowns were demanding like that), but he was going to put as much love and thanks into this hug as he possibly could. An apology was also in order. 

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he mumbled from her shoulder. 

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. It was just the emotions of the moment,” Rayla shrugged, lifting Callums head with it. 

“I don’t know how you put up with me.” 

Rayla was shocked and a bit annoyed at Callum’s statement. Put up with him? He was her boyfriend, not an exceptionally yappy dog. “Callum, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that so I don’t smack you for being so thick-headed. I love you. That means I’m going to help you in any way I can.”

“You know, when you say it out loud, I feel a little foolish.” 

Rayla pulled away from Callum and grabbed his arms before looking him dead in the eyes. “Good. That was a foolish thing to ask.” Intensity was never one of her strong suits but the edge in her voice told her that Callum wouldn’t be forgetting this anytime soon. “Now can we please leave? I don’t know what you spilled on the counter, but it won’t come off, and I don’t want to be here when Ibis comes back and sees it,” Rayla said with a jerk of her thumb to the mentioned area.

Callum looked over her shoulder and spotted the ghastly red smear that had bested her. Her fear was understandable. In any other environment one could safely assume a murder had taken place. 

“It was moonberry jam. And yeah, let's get out of here. I think I’ve had enough of the kitchen anyway.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I know that both of them are technically Uber-competent overachievers but it's so much fun to write them as the direct opposite.
> 
> This one was a bit more personal than most. With my twin brother gone it feels like a bit of me is missing. He still calls in every week but he's so busy with work I barely hear from him anymore. It feels unnatural that we've been separated for so long. On a lighter side, as a useless rich kid myself, I drew from direct experience for this setup.


End file.
